


I've handcuffed your desire

by inappropriatefangirlneeds



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alice Cooper - Freeform, Arthur Penn - Freeform, Food, M/M, Mr. Penn - Freeform, Secret Relationship, Song - Freeform, Vanity, gobblepot, victor zsasz - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22393858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inappropriatefangirlneeds/pseuds/inappropriatefangirlneeds
Summary: Every time I hear a certain song from Alice Cooper I have to think of Jim Gordon and especially S1. So naturally I just had to put this song into Oswald Cobblepot´s head: He gets reminded of the song after one of the nights he spent together with Jim.(Fic is set in some undetermined time frame where Oswald is settled pretty well and he and Jim got some (probably unspoken) professional and personal arrangements. )Not quite sure if it fits Gobblepot Week 2020 ´s “song dedication” entry but that´s what sparked the idea, and there´s always “free space"
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Jim Gordon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: Gobblepot Week 2020





	I've handcuffed your desire

Oswald had felt the shift of weight in the mattress when Jim had gotten up, but still half asleep, he had decided to ignore it, to linger in his dreams a little bit longer. For Oswald a night ended but for Jim a day started.

It should worry him how easy it was for Jim Gordon to pluck him out of his underworld. The cop had waltzed into his establishment, as if he owned it, as usual. Just paying the bare minimum of lip service to the respect Oswald demanded. Jim was always dancing on the fine line of impertinence, Oswald knew he could only tolerate so much before he would lose his face, some of his underlings were so painfully quick to forget what he was capable of. Things were finally running rather smoothly and Oswald wasn´t keen to make an example any time soon but he wouldn´t hesitate to spill more blood if necessary. 

Tonight the cop had asked for a lot and offered little, but it hadn´t hurt Oswald to give. In fact, he might be able to use this little breach of information for his own goals, he just needed to find the right angle and pull some threads at the right time ... just Jim knew how to take his mind off this matter for a few hours. What the cop hadn´t given, Jim had well made up for, bare of his uniform.The soft kisses on his neck were a mere memory by now but the ache in his body when Oswald shifted slightly under the sheets bore witness of the other things Jim had done to him.

Oswald contemplated just staying at the residence. No one would find him here, the estate belonged to him but he had made sure that all records led to a straw man. Mr. Penn´s preciseness had its merits. Even Jim and the whole law enforcement would have trouble to unravel this, most of his own goons couldn´t even think about it. The architecture was convenient, even if someone had followed him unnoticed it wouldn´t be too easy to figure out his precise whereabouts in the building. The Penguin had hesitated to share this space with Jim but he understood their mutual need for discretion and a hand in his hair as well as one on his throat might have compromised his omnipresent caution. Currently his only worry was how quickly the bed was getting cold. No matter how deep he tried to sink into the mattress or how he piled the soft sheets, nothing masked the fact that the bed was empty except for him. There was no use chasing what had ended. The lingering bliss slowly but surely turned into sourness. Jim wasn´t even gone yet and a sullen mood already overtook his mind.

Oswald threw the sheets to the side, and sat on the edge of the bed. At least it seemed to be a good day for his knee, there was next to no pain when he stood up. Still the situation called for a chocolate croissant, hoping the house keeper had gotten it from the right bakery this time Oswald finally left the comfort of the bed behind.

The way to the kitchen led past the bathroom. The door was open, baring view onto Jim´s back and his reflection in the mirror. Jim´s hands were occupied with sorting the strands of hair on his head. Oswald stopped. He had seen Jim´s hair tangled, tousled and bloodied, he had even caused one or two knots himself, but no matter what it had went through, Jim always knew to set it back straight.  
Oswald watched how Jim made sure the parting was meticulous. Wondering if Jim could or had seen him in the mirror, Oswald´s glance switched between the man´s face and his hands working. If Jim had noticed him he didn´t show it. He appeared completely focused on combing through his strands, taking his time with it. Oswald had kept birds that had been less interested in their preening. He couldn´t pry his eyes off of how Jim was forming his hair into the right shape, subjugating all unruly strands. Proper and prim as always … and pretty. That´s when a line ran through Oswald´s head. It had been a while since he had heard the song but the melody was crystal clear ~ _I'm the prettiest cop on the block~_ . His memory didn´t fail him on the following line either, he could hear Alice Cooper´s voice in his mind: ~ _I set your souls on fire … Yes, I'm the prettiest cop on the block …_ ~

Oswald´s amusement must have been visible in his face because suddenly Jim interrupted his thoughts with a defiant but curious _“What?”_   
The cop had spoken without turning his head but his gaze was locked onto Oswald in the mirror. 

Not even trying to wipe the smile of his face Oswald nevertheless replied with a deflective _“Ah, just something that crossed my mind.”_

_“What is it?”_

_“Merely a song that´s stuck in my head.”_

_“If you don´t tell me which one ... I will force you to sing it”_

_“Prettiest cop on the block”_

_“I´m offended”_

Jim let a grimace of fake shock flash over the mirror.   
Oswald didn´t pick up on the point or joke Jim tried to make and the other man followed up with a tone of outrage: 

_“Just on the block?!”_

_“That´s how the lyrics are”,_ Oswald said holding up his bare hands to signal innocence. _“I didn´t write them.”_

As if suggesting he needed to do better with his grooming then Jim briefly returned his focus onto his hair, fixing some last strands before he seemed satisfied. Afterwards he washed his hands and dried them quickly with a towel. The way Jim looked when he turned around to leave the bathroom showed no traces of the state Oswald had seen him in just mere hours ago … dishevelled, skin flushed and lips swollen, just for once not from a fight.

_“We will have to talk about that”,_ Jim put a slight growl into his voice, that tingled right down Oswald´s spine and after which he fell right into the placating tone he used so often: _“Jim, I assure you, you won´t have to argue with me about this … but you know … if you happen to care about Victor´s opinion you sure have serious competition.”_ Oswald made sure to put some challenge into his last words.

Closing the space between them Jim nonchalantly asked: _“Icicle or sketchbook skin”  
_

For a second Oswald wondered, if Zsasz would flash one of unsettling smiles hearing this nickname, or if he´d draw his knives, maybe it would be both, but who knew what was going on under this bald head anyway.

_“Zsasz”_

Looking genuinely curious Jim tilted his head slightly: _“Who”_

_"Victor has said a word or two about this Alvarez of yours after he had returned from some run ins with the GCPD”_

Jim just straightened his back, flashed a brief grin and shrugged.

_“Well, the man got taste … I´m running late”_

And with that Jim had grabbed his suit jacket and was headed for the door. Before he had reached it he turned back around: _“I´ll see you.”_

_“You´re welcome any time, always glad to help the law with some information. I can´t expect the GCPD to keep the city safe on their own can´t I”_

Oswald wasn´t quite sure if he heard a snort from Jim before the door fell back into its frame. It was always a pity to watch him leave. Running a hand over his head Oswald noticed he´d have to take care of his own hair and the sticky residue of hairspray and gel that was now coating his fingers, but that could wait. There was some business he had to get to in the kitchen first.

Oswald was pleased to find the right bakeries emblem on the box he took out of the fridge. Despite them sitting in there for a few days they still tasted almost as good as fresh from the oven. 

~.~.~.~.~~.~.~.~.~

Oswald had indeed spent some more time on his own after Jim had left. The box of baked goods had been empty when he had finally returned to his responsibilities. His next days and nights were busy, there was some quality control issue for the alcohol delivery that no one seemed to be able to solve on their own. It seemed someone in the outskirts was trying to make a quick buck with refilling bottles. Who owned The Iceberg Lounge was no secret, how anyone could think crossing The Penguin like that wouldn´t cost them their heads was a mystery to Oswald. However it turned out to be trickier to get to the roots of this affront than he had expected but sooner or later he would get them.

One evening Oswald sat back with some of the remaining top quality liquor when his phone buzzed. An unknown number.

He opened the message to look right at a photo of a bullet proof vest. A threat? Was someone suggesting he needed one? Who would send him such a picture?  
Before his mind could go through all the possible meanings of this the phone buzzed again.

This time the screen showed words:

[didn´t know you were a fan of cooper J.]

Jim had apparently switched phones again. So the mystery of who it was, was solved, but Oswald was still puzzled about the significance of the vest. Until another picture reached his phone.

It was the same black vest but this time there were some black lace stockings next to them.

Jim must have listened to the song, or he had known it all along? Oswald would have to figure that out. That and those stockings. Knowing about the people he had to deal with, was not only vital for survival, it also was something Oswald took pride in but that was a new side. Some roughness and kink was one thing but Detective James Gordon in delicate lace? Had he meant to suggest he would wear those stockings? Oswald certainly had never seen him with hair on his chest but he wasn´t here to take all the lines of the song word for word. Maybe the picture forming in his mind was just wishful thinking and Jim simply had gotten the stockings for Oswald to wear. Would Jim want to see him in those? Oswald guessed he would find out soon enough, the next message suggested as much. For now Oswald set up a new playlist after he had replied to Jim´s [friday, 10 pm] with a brief confirmation. He was well aware that Alice Cooper´s Special Forces Album didn´t have the best reputation but unrightfully so. The top knot at that time had been a bold choice but Oswald always had been bored with people that never dared to go against the grain of ordinary fashion.

~.~.~.~.~~.~.~.~.~

Drinking the whole truck load of cheap disgusting rubbish, that´s what he would force them to do! Although having them die due to alcohol poisoning started to seem like a rater merciful fate considering the increasing headache they caused him. Oswald had names by now but he still needed to get a hold of them. At least he had organized a new delivery for The Iceberg Lounge and everything was back on track there. Moreover the new caviar he had ordered surpassed his expectations; it was almost a shame to put it on the menu and serve it to alcohol numbed tongues. A shame, but one that was going to benefit his establishment. A few other clubs that had opened recently had thinned out the attendance at his place but that would soon change. Having his new playlist run in the background Oswald was letting himself get distracted from going through his next possible steps. If it so happened that his men found the culprits by Friday night they would have to wait for him, or he would just gift them to Zsasz. His plans were more exciting than to waste his time with some scum, whatever happened to them would send the message no matter if his own hands were part of it or not. Oswald´s mind kept wandering to the evening he would see Jim again. 

A day before it his phone buzzed once more with Jim´s current number. Oswald dreaded a message that would cancel their plans but then a grainy picture showed up on his screen, full of noise, since there was just the stray neon light of some billboards illuminating the photo. Nevertheless Oswald had no trouble recognizing the flexed biceps that the picture showed. He knew how firm and hard those muscles felt. Jim must have taken the picture in front of one of the windows in his apartment, probably awkwardly twisted to get a proper angle. The picture was followed by a message this time as well:

[certainly cool but how mean do you want me]

Oswald swallowed, while the song´s line about handcuffs came to his mind. He wondered how it came to be that they had never had used those before. Sure he revelled in how easy it was for Jim to hold his arms still or to immobilize him almost completely by just pushing him into a wall but the thought of cold metal on his wrists and Jim´s hands free to turn to other things was tempting. Jim only using his handcuffs outside the bedroom was an oversight Oswald now had the opportunity to correct. Just how should he word the message to match Jim´s unexpected wit …. 

_~I must look pretty shocking  
_ _In my bullet proof vest  
_ _With my black lace stockings  
_ _All this hair on my chest  
_ _When the boys see me coming  
_ _All the boys start to run  
_ _They all got their empty holsters  
_ _And I got the only gun ...~_

_~I'm a full blooded man not a weak imitation  
_ _I like to flex my arms in the neon lights~_

_~Yes, I'm the prettiest cop on the block  
_ _And I'm cool -- so mean  
_ _I'm the prettiest cop on the block  
_ _I handcuff your desires~_

_~I'm so pretty, I'm so pretty, so pretty_  
_Yes I'm gorgeous, I'm really lovely  
_ _And I'm so mean, so mean~_

Alice Cooper "Prettiest cop on the block"

[On Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/42X3G35xieB1iuuHhOKZI5)

[YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dC4BcoC9SME)

_______________

**Notes:**

FunFact: There´s a certain kind of Mediaeval German Lyric Genre (other languages have those too but I lack other language skills) called “Tagelied” (dawn song) which depicts the separation of two lovers in the morning. It´s the bittersweet post-smut poem of history. And I very much would like to see the beginning of this fanfic in this tradition ;D (A Gobblepot piece that sticks to the conventions of the genre would be sweet but I suck at rhyming and all that stuff)

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think!  
>   
> Or let me know how you think Oswald should reply!


End file.
